


Extras from And a Splash of Black

by violinzfa



Series: Trans! Bruce Wayne AU [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alfred Pennyworth is a Saint, Batfamily (DCU), Bruce Wayne Has Too Many Kids, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Crochet, Family, Family Bonding, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Crack, Gen, Jason Todd Swears, Soft Dick Grayson, Unholy drink mixtures
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:35:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25856005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violinzfa/pseuds/violinzfa
Summary: A collection of moments in the same universe asAnd a Splash of Black.Chapter 1: Crochet and Tsum TsumsChapter 2: Alternate ending toAnd a Splash of Black.Chapter 3: 5 + 1 Songfic basically (part 1of 3)Chapter 4: (Part 2 of above)Chapter 5: (Part 3 of above)Chapter 6: Identity (Jason's POV after Ch 2)Chapter 7: Blindness (Dick's POV and some angst)
Series: Trans! Bruce Wayne AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1876204
Comments: 7
Kudos: 83





	1. Crochet Blankets and Tsum Tsums

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been crocheting myself with this yarn so some of these little details are from my own experiences using Michael's brand yarn.
> 
> Honestly though, I am so tired for no reason now that I don't walk anywhere. All I did the other day (when I started this) was finish half a cross stitch and go down stairs to eat.

It all started with quarantine. 

Well the most of it was over. People could now go out but safety guidelines didn't permit galas so no one had seen 'Brucie' in a good few months. Wayne Enterprises _would_ say that they have synthesized a vaccine but the current fatality rate is too high in the labs, so that'll probably be at least another year. 

So with everyone at the manor, Tim thought of something wonderful. After scrolling through Tik Tok and watching many YouTube tutorials on the subject, he felt confident enough to crochet. The bees were just so cute though! 

He bought the brand of yarn he'd seen in the videos, but then realized that that specific type, sweet snuggles, was only sold at Michael's. After checking the website multiple times a day, and enlisting Kon to get skeins from other Michael's in the country, he had enough supplies to make eleven blankets, and a few bees. He chucked everything in a safe spot in his closet so that most of them wouldn't know. 

Tim got to work as soon as possible. Alfred's was up first. Tim had just finished chaining 19 when he heard a knock on his door. He quickly tucked everything away in a nearby bag, which just be happened to be his work backpack. Well, it's not like he'll be needing that any time soon. 

"Hey, Replacement. It's sustenance time,"Jason called out from behind the door. 

"K. Be there in a sec," Tim made sure the project was sufficiently hidden before leaving his room. 

Tim looked at his phone to see the time. Noon. I guess it's lunch time, Tim thought, I kinda thought it'd be dinner for some reason... Jason was waiting in the hall. 

"Are you coming?" Jason raised an eyebrow. 

"Lay off will you," Tim shoved Jason playfully. Jason rolled his eyes and they descended the stairs. 

The family ate in relative silence. Dick was telling Damian about something that happened on his way from the grocery store and Damian simply nodded every so often. 

"Hey Timmy, why are you covered in fuzz?" Dick asked. Tim looked down at his clothes. Oops.

"Uuuuhhhhh," he hummed intelligently. Shit! Make up an excuse...

"Kon came over and was wearing a fuzzy jacket." Double shit.

"Isn't that a safety hazard for you?" Jason asked, wiping his face with his napkin and picking up his plate to put in the sink. 

"He's half Kryptonian," Tim answered, as if that would solve everything. 

"Tt. Why was the clone even in your room?" Damian crossed his arms and furrowed his eyebrows.

"We were just hanging out, god," Tim said, making sure to sound an appropriate amount exasperated. It was kinda true at least...

"We're just looking out for your health Timmy. You don't have a spleen so you should just be careful," Dick tried to mediate.

"Fine. I'm gonna go back to my room then." Tim got up, put his plate in the sink and trekked back upstairs to his room.

~~~~~

God, there was fuzz everywhere from the tail at the end of the project. Tim tied of the end once he picked off the annoying bits of the yarn fuzz and tied off the remaining string end to make sure the rest didn't come apart. Then he grabbed a pair of scissors and cut the excess strings. There. Alfie's blanket was finally finished. He moved on to Jason's. Why? 'Cause he's been the least annoying since quarantine started. 

You know what? Tim was feeling adventurous. Let's make Jason a Red Hood plush, but in like a Tsum Tsum shape like the bee. Tim was sure them Batfam would get a kick out of that. A light switched on in his head. He should make one of each member's alter ego! 

~~~~~

He's been crocheting for nearly three days straight now and he's only finished projects for Alfred, Jason, Duke, and Steph. Only 6 more including one for himself, so at this rate he figured it would take him into the next week. Crocheting wasn't really difficult. The fricking yarn was just so big, like the amount of shifting needed to turn project around for one round was too much. Honestly, those kits at Barns and Noble? It took him like two days to finish each of the two projects they came with. He had to call Kon halfway through Cass' when he realized he ran out of stuffing.

"Do you want the polyfill stuff again?" Kon asked already in the craft store.

"Yep. Two bags please," just to be safe. 

Kon returned with not only the stuffing, but a matcha frapp with 10 shots of espresso.

"Is that what I think it is?" Tim's eyes widened.

"Yup. All for you. I still have no idea how you like that stuff..." Kon trailed off, eyes locked at the unholy drink that was now being consumed by Tim. 

"Could be worse. I could be doing cocaine."

"With the amount of caffeine you consume, I doubt you'd even feel anything if you _did_ do cocaine."

"Yeah, fair. Thanks for the delivery Kon."

"No prob." Kon waved as he left through the window.

Alright. Back to business.

~~~~~

So then an increase here, then--wait, where did the stitch marker go? God damn it.

~~~~~

"It's been so long, since I last have seen my son, lost to this monster, to the man behind the slaughter," Tim sang as he grabbed the purple yarn for Spoiler.

~~~~~

Ok. Finally one for the brat.

He miscounted the decrease on Bruce's so he unraveled it and restitched it like three time. The black yarn was really difficult to see; like, one would think that a crime fighting vigilante who patrols in the night would have no problem seeing in the dark in regular situations. Unfortunately for Tim, he hadn't slept since he started crocheting and the stitches were all blending together. He finished the magic circle, then rubbed at his eyes.

Screw it. One hour power nap. Tim set an alarm for an hour later, put his head on his pillow and was out.

~~~~~

An hour later it was around 4 AM: around 9 days since the blanket. Tim got up and immediately got to work, finishing Damian's in the next three hours. He quickly made himself a blanket then set it on his bed for later.

Now it was time to present his work. 

~~~~~

Everyone was in the living room at Tim's request: Dick, Jason, Duke, Cass, Babs, Steph, Duke, Damian, Bruce and Alfred were all on the couches. Tim had packed the plushies in a trash bag that sat next to his foot.

"So I have something for each of you," Tim began and took out the Batman plush. Their reaction was immediate. Everyone was displaying some form of enchantment by the cute bean-shaped Batman. Bruce's, Damian's and Cass' eyes seemed to sparkle. Dick, Babs and Steph were audibly gushing. Duke and Alfred were a bit more reserved. 

"Dude the bees!" Jason nearly shouted.

"Yep," Tim smirked, handing the plush to Bruce. Bruce took it cautiously, examining the flared cape before setting it down comfortably in his lap to cuddle with. He trembled so slightly that you'd have to be watching him in order to notice, but he was smiling so Tim took that as a good sign.

Next he took out Jason's. Tim had debated whether or not to integrate the leather jacket in the body or make it separate but that wouldn't leave enough room for the red bat symbol on its chest, so he made it separate and even put a little pistol in its hand. Jason didn't know what to say either. Tim handed the Red Hood plush to Jason, who took it awkwardly but after seeing that it had a bat symbol, his eyes misted over. Alfred produced a tissue box, knowing where this family meeting was heading and Jason snatched a few, hiding his face behind the plush to wipe his tears.

"I wasn't sure whether to put a pistol or a rifle so I kinda guessed," Tim said to redirect everyone's attention from Jason.

"Nah it's great," Jason replied steadily with a chuckle, as if he never even started crying. 

The next one Tim took out was Dick's. 

"OH MY GOD IT'S ME!" Dick squealed, hands on his cheeks like a surprised anime girl. Damian groaned next to him. The Nightwing plush was much easier since it didn't need a cape or anything complicated. Tim handed it to Dick who immediately cuddled it.

"It's so soft!" Dick plopped back onto the couch with his cheek resting on the plush.

Tim got his out just to show everyone and put it aside, then grabbed Damian's.

"Here you go, brat," Tim held out the Robin plush to Damian, half expecting him to pull out a knife. Damian just looked at it in wonder. He reached out at it slowly, afraid this all might just be a dream, but when his hand connected with the soft yarn, a tear fell down his face. He sniffled and tackled Tim in a hug. They both nearly fell over, but Tim was expecting assault from the beginning, so he was sufficiently grounded, even if this wasn't the type of assault he was expecting.

"Oof," Tim grunted. Yeah, definitely was not expecting that. What the hell did the League of Assassins do to him? Damian looked up and gave Tim a thankful look, then settled back on the couch to cuddle with Dick, looking tiny with the plush that was the size of his torso in his arms. Everyone else was in shock, also not expecting that reaction from the little demon spawn. Dick wrapped an arm around him and whispered reassurances while Tim grabbed another out of the trash bag.

"Oooo! It's purple!" Steph said, a bit higher pitched than normal. She took it from Tim enthusiastically and sat back on her spot.

Tim took out Cass' next. Her eyes sparkled in wonder as Tim gave it to her.

"Thank you," she said as she signed.

Tim grabbed Duke's next. 

"It took me forever to get yellow, you know. Everyone is making bees," Tim joked as he handed the signal plush to Duke. 

"Not gonna lie dude, these are awesome. How are you so good at this?" Duke asked Tim.

"Honestly, it's so much easier than fixing electronics or playing piano. It's also not so much that I'm good, more of... there are more difficult things I can do," Tim replied waving a hand dismissively.

"I suppose you're not wrong."

The final plush Tim got out was Babs'. He settled for classic Batgirl.

"These are literally the cutest thing ever," Babs told Tim as he handed the Batgirl plush to her.

"Oh! One more thing," Tim reached into the bag one last time to pull out the blanket, but the static made it cling to his arm. He shook his arm in an attempt to get the bag off, failing miserably.

"You got it Tim?" Jason snickered.

"Shut up, Jason," said Tim through clenched teeth. Eventually, he got it off by setting everything down and stepping on the bag while he grabbed the blanket.

"God, finally. For Alfred," Tim held out the blanket.

"Oh my, Master Tim. You didn't need to," Alfred smiled softly.

"Yeah Tim. Thanks but what made you do all this?" asked Dick, still clinging to Damian and the Nightwing plush.

"Bees," Tim deadpanned. 

"You keep saying 'bees.' I don't understand the 'bees' reference," Bruce spoke up, having recovered from his emotional outburst.

"Bees," Tim insisted, before casting the Tik Tok on the TV from his phone.

"Oh god, it really is bees," said Dick, eyes wide.

And with that, Tim left with his plush, disposing of the trash bag, and headed back to his room. He climbed onto his bed and lied on top of the newly made blanket. As soon as his head touched the pillow, he was out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I regret crocheting four things back to back. My hands are in agony because of my past issues with carpal tunnel and playing violin too so yeah. Good times.
> 
> I don't really know where this is going but if anyone wants to request a scene, I'd be more than happy to write it.


	2. Goodbye Again (Good Ending)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please read chapters [4](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25681786/chapters/62529223) and [5](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25681786/chapters/63052276?style=creator) of [And a Splash of Black](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25681786) before reading this because this is literally a different ending to that part of the story.

Zatanna knew two things at this point.

1: This must be deep shit if Bruce is showing feelings.

2: He's making this her problem too now so she's in deeper shit.

Zatanna downed the rest of her drink then stood up from the stool.

"Well, let's get this over with," she sighed, and Bruce led the women to a nearby zeta tube. Once they were back in Gotham he took them to one of his more inconspicuous cars than Alfred left parked in an alley and drove them to the manor. 

"So what's the problem?" Zatanna asked gently. His lips thinned, but other than that, his expression stayed relatively the same. 

"Time travel," Bruce kept it short. Straight to the facts. That was a start but Zatanna was gonna need a bit more than that. Oh well. She'll just have to be ready for the worst. 

The group spent the rest of the car ride in silence.

~~~~~

"Food's ready losers," said Jason as he walked back into the living room. The separation of Bruce's parents and Bruce's kids truly was the best decision Alfred could make. There were only so many options when both Thomas and Martha have been dead for decades, and if he were to send the children out, family dinner night would most certainly have been spoiled. Martha and Thomas were ushered to the library, having eaten earlier, and now it was the kids' turn to eat. 

"Master Jason," Alfred said in a disapproving tone, glaring slightly.

"Uuuuhhh, sorry Alfie," Jason blushed and rubbed the back of his neck, averting his eyes. Everyone else kept their mouths shut. Soon enough, everyone was seated and eating.

"So what's the plan guys?" asked Steph as Jason passed the toast to Duke. Duke fumbled the slice he was trying to grab and it fell onto his lap, garlic butteriness getting all over his shorts. He simply sighed and put the bread on his plate.

Damian pulled out a knife out from under the table and Jason simultaneously pulled out a pistol.

"One that  _ doesn't _ involve killing or maiming them," Dick added with a raised eyebrow. Both Damian and Jason put their weapons away slowly.

"Well it's not like there's much we  _ could _ do. They're legally dead," Tim shrugged, "but we could resort to psychological torture. Bruce's parenting sure did prepared us for that."

"Amen," Jason nodded. 

"I'm not even gonna ask..." Duke was a little scared but this was probably normal for this family.

There was a faint sound of the front door opening and a few people coming in, then there was a sharp crack of the door being slammed. Hopefully the hinges were still intact; Alfred wasn't about to get another door for the third time in only a couple months.

"That's no excuse! they're your  _ parents _ Bruce!" shouted Selina, her voice echoing through the halls. 

"Well what else am I supposed to do?!" Bruce shouted back.

"Let's stop and take a deep breath, yeah?" Zatanna interrupted then continued, "Bruce, where are your parents?"

"Alfred sent them to the library," Bruce replied. Then there were a series of footsteps as they probably went to the library.

"OK guys, change of plans," Steph said, dabbing Alfredo off her lips. She set down her napkin and faced the rest of them seriously, "operation TPBG is a go: Transphobic Parents Be Gone."

~~~~~

"Mother, Father, this is Zatanna. She will be returning you back to your time," said Bruce, stepping into the library. "Zatanna, my parents."

Selina had a scowl but kept her eyes away, "I'm gonna see what the kids are up to." Then she was gone.

"Dahlia, dear! Thomas and I were just talking about how those sapphire earrings would go lovely with your eyes," Martha clapped her hands together. Bruce had just about had it. One more time, he thought. 

"Don't forget that red dress, the one with the black belt and chiffon off-shoulder straps," Thomas added. 

Fine.

He'll play by their rules.

"Excuse me," Bruce turned around.

"Wait, where are you going? You can't just leave me here," Zatanna insisted.

"I'm just gonna change. See you in 20 minutes," Bruce said as he waved to Zatanna before leaving the room.

"Ugh, fine. 20 minutes, but you better be back not a minute later," Zatanna shouted out as he left. 

"So how do you suppose we're getting back to our time?" Martha asked. Zatanna whipped her head around and looked her up and down before sitting down on a nearby chair. 

"I'm gonna warn you just this once; it's gonna get a bit weird but it'll totally be normal so don't freak out, 'k?" Zatanna warned then said the incantation, " **ezylana eht cigam yeht erew tih htiw** !" A light engulfed the Waynes as the spell did its work.

~~~~~

Bruce stared at the bag in his room and dreaded the contents. Just pretend you're going undercover, he thought. The only problem was that his undercover identity would be his dead-name and this was real life. 

"Fuck it," he declared and dolled himself up. 

Natural glam look with striking red lipstick.

[ Floral blue retro dress ](https://www.dhresource.com/0x0s/f2-albu-g6-M01-27-C9-rBVaSFrdf7GAe3GrAAOdFo4C-S4553.jpg/summer-women-dresses-light-blue-audrey-hepburn.jpg) with appropriate padding and undergarments.

White gloves. 

Last but not least, shoulder length wig, styled like a 60's housewife.

By the end of it Bruce didn't know what to feel, but then it clicked. 

Just do it like before. 

He (she?) straightened his (her?) back and dropped his (her?) shoulders, giving the illusion of a more delicate body type. He (she??) finished off the outfit with white open-toe kitten heel shoes with a strap around the ankle.

Now or never.

~~~~~

"I can definitely say that whoever did this is obviously an amateur," Zatanna announced. 

"So what does that mean for us?" Thomas asked, holding his wife's hand. Bruce's 20 minutes were nearly up and he still wasn't back yet. 

"There's some good news and some bad news," Zatanna began, "good news: it'll fade by midnight. Bad news: well, that's just it I suppose. This is as much as I'll be able to help."

In the distance and growing louder there was a faint...tapping? Maybe it was footsteps? A tall woman turned the corner of the door frame and crossed her arms.

"My parents haven been giving you too much trouble have they Zatanna?" the woman asked. Wait... Zatanna thought for a moment, Bruce?!

"Oh Dahlia, what a lovely dress! It truly makes your eyes stand out," Martha gushed.

"Why don't we show everyone how beautiful you look," Martha tugged at Bruce's arm.

"What a wonderful idea," said Bruce, sounding very natural despite how much it made his skin crawl, er, Dahlia not Bruce. Dah-li-a. Dahlia.

~~~~~

"Everyone ready?" Babs said, pulling up her laptop screen on the TV in the living room. Everyone present nodded. Cass took Damian and Jason out for ice cream so they wouldn't get any ideas, leaving Babs, Dick, Duke, Steph, Tim and Selina to carry out the plan.

"So here's the pla-" Babs started.

"Children," a voice cut her off. They all turned toward the voice and saw a woman who resembled... Oh no...

'She' walked into the room, "where are Damian, Jason and Cass?"

"Bruce? Is that you?" Steph asked, not sure if what she was seeing was real.

"It's Dahlia sweetie," corrected 'Dahlia' with a shake of 'her' head.

"They went to Friendly's," Duke supplied.

"Oh! Well I hope they enjoy themselves I suppose," 'Dahlia' strode over to the sofa and set 'herself' down with her gloved hands resting on her lap. 'Her' parents followed suit and Zatanna, who looked exceptionally weary, as well. She checked her watch. 10:57. Only two more hours of this...this...whatever this is.

"Br--erm, 'Dahlia,' can we talk for a minute?" Selina beckoned with her finger. She led the other to a sitting room nearby.

"Bruce, what the fuck," Selina kept her statement brief.

"Not right now. I have to stay in character. They want Dahlia right now, so here she is," 'Dahlia' explained.

"So this is an excuse for you to jump into the closet at the edge of Niagara falls?"

"I mustn't make them upset. Mother loves it when I wear delicate things, and when she is happy, father is happy."

"This isn't about them Bruce! This is about you, and right now, you need to be you," Selina turned her heel and went back to the living room. 'Dahlia' followed a minutes later after getting 'her' bearings.

~~~~~

"Here's the deal: the spell will wear off at midnight which is in," Zatanna looked at her watch again, "an hour and 45 minutes." Most of the kids looked upset but Dick, well, he had a dark look in his eyes.

"So say what you need to in that time I guess," Zatanna finished off. This was definitely not what she had in mind for girl's night.

Dick stood up quickly and took a deep breath before beginning, "what gives you the right to do this. To your  _ child _ no less. Don't you see how uncomfortable he is? How disgusted he is with himself in a body that feels inherently wrong? What will it take for you to understand, huh? How would you feel if I called you Mr. Martha and Ms. Thomas? I am so sick of your shit and whatever you think gives you the power to dictate who or what a person is!" His voice rose to the point where he may as well have been screaming at them. "I'm going to find Damian..." Dick mumbled as he darted to the front door.

"Shit," Tim said, nearly dropping his mug of espresso shots with a hint of Earl Grey. The room stayed quiet for a while.

Selina and 'Dahlia' came back one after the other and sat back down. Selina popped out her phone and began typing furiously.

"Dahlia," Thomas spoke up.

"Yes," 'she' responded.

"You'd tell us if there was something important going on with you, right?"

'She' opened 'her' mouth as if to say something, but struggled for a moment then finally said, "of course," and smiled the same smile they'd seen at the Wayne charity galas.

"Hold the  _ fucking shit  _ up!" Jason dropped in. "I leave for two hours and I see this--" Jason waves both hands at 'Dahlia,' "I am so sorry Alfred (Alfred shrugged), but you all are incredibly blind. Do you not see the massive insult this is?! To  _ your child _ damn it! This man is my  _ father  _ and I can’t even find it in myself to be sorry if you don’t see it that way. Fuck. You." By the end of his mini-rant Jason could feel a painful tightness in his throat and prickling in the corners of his eyes. He didn’t even know why it hurt. The heaviness made it difficult to breath. Before any pitiful noises could escape, Jason ran out of the room to the cave.

Thomas looked to Martha, then back to 'Dahlia,' who looked conflicted. He could sense the wrongness in his child’s eyes as different emotions swirled in 'her' eyes. Bruce on the other hand had just about _ had _ it. They may be his parents but  _ he _ is the  _ Goddamn Batman _ . 

"You know what? I regret not being truthful to you but I was afraid you wouldn’t understand. Clearly, my assumptions were right..." Bruce trailed off. 

~~~~~

A good 10 minutes after Jason’s quick departure, Tim and Babs initiated phase 2 of TPBG. Clark. Phase 1, though a little simple, had worked much better than either of them expected. Jason was right. Despite all of the formal, eloquent things he could have said, there are some instances where 'fuck' gets the job done a thousand times better and just met the line of an adequate substitute to violence.

Not even two minutes later Bruce spoke up, "You know what? I regret not being truthful to you but I was afraid you wouldn’t understand. Clearly, my assumptions were right..." He turned to face them on the other side of the sofa, "I thought if I gave you what you wanted you would see how wrong it was for me. Let’s even call it a test. Given that logic: You. Both. Failed." Martha looked horrified. 

Bruce continued,"I am not a woman. Despite having such organs, I am a man, so fuck this bullshit. I’m changing." And he was gone. Martha opened her mouth but nothing came out.

Tim glanced at his laptop clock. About 40 minutes left. After a couple more minutes, Dick returned with Damian, a bit calmer--or at least not murderous--and the two disappeared into the cave to deal with the rest of their feelings. 

Because that was much healthier than actually killing Bruce’s parents.

~~~~~

Thomas was conflicted to say the least. Where did they go wrong? Why didn’t they notice such a massive detail about their child’s identity--their  _ son _ . 

Martha would rectify this as soon as they were back home. Her child wanted to go to the cinema tomorrow so afterward would be a perfect time.

Babs leaned over to Duke and tapped his shoulder three times, signalling him to meet Clark in the cave. He turned to nod and went off on his way. Bruce came back looking much more comfortable in his own skin. As soon as he sat down Martha looked at her husband and Thomas nodded in understanding. 

Thomas put a hand on Bruce’s before he spoke, "we need to apologize." The kids all mentally sighed. There was only so much stress they could deal with in one day that they couldn’t solve with vigilantism. Alfred’s lips curled slightly in approval as he walked in with a tray of cookies, setting it down on the coffee table. Bruce just raised an eyebrow, but he indulged them anyway.

"We should have known better. This is not the type of person either of us wanted to be for you. We gave you what you wanted despite society and what did we do just now? Are we no better than those who we protected you from?" Thomas sighed with a far away look in his eyes. 

"We never considered the possibility or even the existence of your situation, and there is no excuse for any of it with how accepting we are supposed to be for the unconventional. Hell, I climbed a tree in my work clothes just to see if you were alright*, heels, dress and all," continued Martha, hand twitching toward Bruce but otherwise unmoving. 

"What we are both trying to say is that we  _ do _ accept you. Even if we failed to recognize at first, you will always be our  _ son _ ," Thomas ended. 

"Took you long enough," Selina snorted, rolling her eyes. 

Zatanna stood up, "you guys only have about 5 more minutes so make them count." Bruce nodded, not realizing that the room was rapidly getting emptier, until only he and his parents remained.

"There’s so much we don’t get to know," Martha finally sobbed as the headstone image caught up with her. "We never see you graduate, or go to college, or get a partner in life, or your kids as babies, or--or--or your," Martha put her face in her hands to muffle her ugly cries. Bruce laid his hands on her shoulders as she did for him.

"You did well," he replied.

"You’ve definitely become a man worth the Wayne name, son," Thomas wrapped an arm around Bruce’s shoulders and the three fell into a hug. Light began to engulf the older two.

"I suppose this is it," said Thomas with a sad smile. 

"Goodbye, Bruce," said both Martha and Thomas. When the light dissipated, Bruce could still feel their warmth.

~~~~~

Clark was definitely not worried about Bruce. He said he’d explain, Clark thought as he paced the Watchtower observation deck. Oh, yeah. No worries here.

So when he got a text from Tim three hours after Bruce vanished, he did the most calm and logical thing by quickly sprinting to the nearest zeta tube, disregarding those around him (it’s probably fine with his amount of experience controlling his power, right?) and without checking the destination. Then as soon as he was down to earth, he realized he landed in Indonesia, so he flew to his apartment halfway around the world just to change and get to the manor. He checked his phone. Only a minute? God that felt like forever, he thought as he texted Tim that he’ll be there in 5 minutes. Enough time to think and cool off. 

After a relatively leisurely flight to Gotham, Clark was still worried but at least the overbearing sense of dread was gone. Duke was already outside waiting for him. When he touched down they went down to the cave. 

Damian and Dick were over on the mats doing yoga. Or was that sparing? Yoga violence? Dick was moving into seemingly unnatural positions while Damian jabbed, kicked and flipped. Then Dick bent himself back and--oh god was a human spine supposed to do that?? Clark darted his eyes away to Jason, who was punching the punching bag as if it insulted his mother**. Clark could have sworn he saw a few tears among the sweat.

Well enough invasion of privacy. Clark continued to follow Duke to the meeting table and took the nearest chair.

Duke glanced at the analog clock at the corner of the Batcomputer before shouting out, “7 minutes guys!” Seven minutes until what? Midnight? Weren’t they supposed to have the day off from patrol since Roy and Wally were taking care of Gotham? (Much to Bruce’s displeasure) 

Anyhow, the rest of the kids all came flooding down after a couple minutes. 

"Guys, phase one was a success. Phase two in," Tim looked at the time, "a couple minutes. Great lecture skills Dick, Jason," Tim nodded to the both of them. 

Cass materialized right behind Clark and tapped his shoulder twice. Clark whipped his head around. Was she there a second ago?? 

"Exactly. Phase two," Tim nodded to Cass. Phase two? What was the problem for there to have a phase one?

"Can someone please explain what’s going on? I tried to find out from Bruce when he went up to the Watchtower but..." Clark furrowed his eyebrows and looked at the ground. 

"Well do you want the long version or the super short version?" Steph asked as she painted Barbra’s nails mustard yellow. Barbra was also getting a pedicure from Dick while Cass painted her own nails black.

"What’s the ‘super short version’?" ask Clark incredulously. 

"Bruce’s parents time traveled, called him a girl, got absolutely roasted by Dick and Jason, then the cogs in their head started turning to accept Bruce as their son. They’re apparently gonna disappear in a few seconds," Steph answered, not looking up from her work. 

Damian shouted from across the cave, "Todd, where are the samples from the other day?"

Jason shouted back, breathing heavily as he continued his assault on the punching bag, "the left counter by the flask cabinet."

"Anyhow, you should probably go upstairs to see Bruce. It’s been quite the day," Tim looked Clark in the eyes and Clark nodded. He began climbing up the stairs and heard Dick say "and don’t look so serious. B’s the broody one." Clark chuckled.

~~~~~

Clark made it up all the way to Bruce’s room and reached to knock the door when it opened.

Bruce’s eyes were bloodshot, face tear-stained and clothes askew. Bruce stepped aside to let Clark into his room then closed the door behind him and plopped himself onto his bed curled on his side, calves hanging off the edge. Clark climbed into the bed and pulled Bruce close into a tangled mess of limbs and sheets. Clark could feel Bruce’s pulse relax as Bruce snuggled into his chest.Clark put a hand in Bruce’s hair and kissed the top of his head before also relaxing.

Then, they were both asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Definitely happens in the comics but I totally forget where.  
> **May Catherine Todd rest in peace. Although now that I think about this line... I do NOT mean Bruce here!


	3. The Music Room Pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ngl I used my experiences heavily when I wrote this so it hopefully makes sense out of context. Might want a music dictionary for some terms (or an Italian translator lol).
> 
> I also have perfect pitch so Dick is in a was a bit of a self insert...

The piano in Wayne Manor was bought by Martha Wayne. She planned to teach her child to play once they were old enough. Then Martha had her child and their time was cut short. 

Bruce learned up to the professional level to feel connected to her.

The piano received her due throughout the years, each boy bringing something new. 

Dick learned to play by ear, though he soon found that his talent was his undoing when Bruce tried to teach him properly. Ever the crutch. 

Jason begged Bruce to teach him the piano as soon as he laid eyes on it. The music always understood where people had failed. Eventually a guitar made a home next to the piano.

Tim was classically trained as soon as he could read. The piano was almost depressed by the monotony in his playing. A drum kit found itself in the corner of the room; the pitched notes failed him where the lack of pitch sympathized.

Damian learned the violin before touching the piano. He took that knowledge and quickly applied it to the piano, picking it up as a second method of self-expression.

~~~~~

“Dance Monkey” by Tones and I

~~~~~

He couldn’t get the stupid song out of his head.  _ Hilariously  _ enough it worked so well to explain his relationship with everyone. Dick shook his head and buried himself in his sheets in a futile attempt to block the mocking tune from his head. 

_ Move for me, move for me, move for me eh eh eh _

_ And when you’re done I’ll make you do it all again _

It was like this song was for him. He would have certainly thought so if he hadn’t looked it up and found out it was one of the few songs about the artist herself and her experiences professionally busking. Although lying on his bed, he could feel the notes clawing at his chest.

Dick walked out of his room and downstairs to the piano. He didn’t care if anyone heard him because at this point the music would explode out of him whether he wanted it to or not. He eyed the bench as he entered the room--the beautifully handcrafted piece of art it was--and adjusted the cushion before he sat. The piano itself was handcrafted as well with matching legs. A perfect piano and bench pair. 

Dick lifted the lid and pushed it back so it was tucked away then finally placed his hands on the keys. He pressed the keys, trying to hear the right chords. Just because he doesn’t sing well in front of his family, didn’t mean he was tone deaf. After figuring out the chords and practicing the chord progression a few times he decided, _ fuck it _ , and tapped the keys with controlled vigor. He missed a few notes in the intro, mentally sighed, and pulled through into the next couple measures before breathing in.

_ They say oh my god I see the way you shine _

_ Take your hand, my dear, and place them both in mine _

_ You know you stopped me dead while I was passing by _

_ And now I beg to see you dance just one more time _

_ Ooh I see you, see you, see you every time _

_ And oh my I, I, I like your style _

_ You, you make me, make me, make me wanna cry _

_ And now I beg to see you dance just one more time _

The chorus was a bit simpler. He only had to use his left hand and play the bass line as he sung the chorus.

_ So they say _

_ Dance for me, dance for me, dance for me, oh, oh, oh _

_ I've never seen anybody do the things you do before _

_ They say move for me, move for me, move for me, ay, ay, ay _

_ And when you're done I'll make you do it all again _

Why did it always have to be him? Why was he suddenly appointed to solve everyone’s problems when he had enough of his own to think about? 

Over and over and  _ over _ .

All pretences of sticking to moderate dynamics were thrown out the window. As soon as Dick hit the next verse, he brought the right hand chords back with a forceful quality, reaching a good fortissimo. 

_ I said oh my god I see you walking by _

_ Take my hands, my dear, and look me in my eyes _

_ Just like a monkey I've been dancing my whole life _

_ But you just beg to see me dance just one more time _

_ Ooh I see you, see you, see you every time _

_ And oh my I, I like your style _

_ You, you make me, make me, make me wanna cry _

_ And now I beg to see you dance just one more time _

It never started. It never stopped. Everyone ran to him. Expected everything out of him. His parents, Bruce, his brothers, his ‘friends.’ 

Then he hit the chorus again, a bit louder than the first time. His voice accommodated the somewhat terraced crescendo, slowly then abrupt but still somewhat slow until he got to the bridge. 

Subito piano now. 

He gently pecked at the keys, just enough to get a rich sound as he nearly whined out the bridge. Something wet fell onto his hand and trailed down to the floor. Suppressing a hiccup, Dick wiped his cheeks on the shoulders of his t-shirt and started again with the chorus, nearly pounding on the keys. Was he shouting? He couldn’t hear anymore. 

He finished the last line with a whisper, nearly collapsing onto the piano as he curled in on himself, gasping for air. He felt a bit faint. He probably would have fainted onto the keys if not for the eyes he felt on his back. 

He turned around slowly, tears ceaselessly falling to his lap. His face was hauntingly neutral. God forbid his tears become blood. Alfred stood at the door looking quite indifferent if not for the fire in the back of his eyes. It only took him a few strides to reach Dick and pull him close. Dick clung to Alfred. The only exception. The only one who never needed anything from him. The only constant in this forsaken world. 

~~~~~

“Love I Need” by The Living Tombstone

~~~~~

Ever since the bats had finally gotten him to therapy, Jason had found an actually healthy way to vent his problems. Truth be told, he got the idea from Dick.

So now both Jason and Dick were in their make-shift band area in the piano room, keyboard, electric guitar and amps ready to go. Jason even wired Roy into playing drums for their little vent session. Jason was tuned up while Dick used the split function to make each half of the keyboard a different sound and made sure his sound switch presets were set correctly before giving Jason a thumbs up. Jason nodded and counted them all in.

_ I don't get the love I need anymore _

_ I don't get the love I need anymore _

_ I'm feelin' sick of independence _

He got things done. Even if Bruce didn’t support his methods, he sure as hell was more effective at keeping Gotham safer than a furry in a bat suit. Why should Bruce dictate everything in our so-called ‘family?’ Dick changed to a more outer-space-like synth for the off beats.

_ I don't get the love I need anymore _

_ I don't get the love, I walked out the door _

_ Oh, won't let you carry out my sentence _

It’s not like he had a choice. Conform and play house or get things done. As much as he cared for this city he also wanted his  _ dad _ , not fucking Batman. He wanted his dad to save him that day. He wants his dad to tell him it’ll be  _ okay _ . Dick eased off the synth and Jason took the lead, strumming the chords as Roy gently tapped out the rhythm on the hi-hat, imitating a rattle.

_ Well the writing was clear, it appeared on the wall _

_ We were broken and scared unprepared for the fall _

_ It's true, I couldn't keep waiting on you  _

The Joker the crowbar and explosion to ice the cake. DIck changed to an ethereal synth

_ And I know that you hurt and I know that you tried _

_ But I'll go it alone if I can't satisfy your view _

_ Why live a life I wasn't meant to? _

It’s not he wanted to but he’d sacrifice himself, just for some semblance of normalcy. Jason took the lead as Roy changed to a more heavy beat to accommodate his belting.

_ But they told me, "Dance _

_ Keep playin' the game _

_ Press start, continue, look _

_ Within' you, without you _

_ Begin to advance _

_ As far as you can _

_ 'Til you lose your winnings _

_ Find new beginnings" _

_ Na-na-na na-na-na _

So repetitive. Like they wanted him to move forward but pushed him ten steps back. It’s so frustrating when they tried to ‘fix’ him so he gave in. The pacification, the softness, the dissatisfaction. He kept on going to please them. Jason calmed down a bit for the next verse, reserving himself for the next chorus. Dick switched synths with planned care throughout.

_ I don't get the love I need anymore _

_ I'm cast out to sea, I can't find the shore _

_ Don't really know what I was thinking _

_ I don't get the love I need anymore _

_ I'm not even sure what I'm searching for _

_ I hear a melody and I start singing _

He nearly chuckled at how literal the line was. Screw Dick and his vent methods that actually work.

_ I am lost in a dream, I can't open my eyes _

_ Never told how to live after I say goodbye to you _

_ They tell me, "Find another darling" _

_ How can I find a love when I can't find myself? _

Who is Jason Todd anyway? Was  _ he  _ Jason Todd? 

**_When they set me adrift, made me think when I jumped_ **

**_I flew but this just feels like I am falling_ **

That one was for you Dick. Not that Jason would fall in front of him… Jason allowed the last chorus to overtake him. Nearly screaming the words he took every ounce of feeling and fed it to the song.

_ And they told me, "Dance _

_ Follow the rules _

_ The next objective _

_ Feel defective, select _

_ A brand new circumstance _

The only reason he followed those rules was so they didn’t throw him out. Yeah. The Red Hood has abandonment issues, get over it.

_ Make lovers of fools _

_ Go through the motions _

_ To feel connected _

_ Without them you're broken, broken, broken, broken" _

Jason let his voice drift off with the guitar. Sweat dripped from his face as he put the guitar back on the stand. Man that was exhausting. 

“Same time next month?” he asked as Dick and Roy both got up to stretch.    
“Sure,” Roy replied as Dick nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eta on part 2 . . .
> 
> Nearly done and Imma start the last part over the weekend.


	4. The Music Room Pt. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recommend listening to the songs while reading this (or whenever I guess) cuz some of the writing relies very heavily on the musical components.

~~~~~

“HYPER4ID” by t+pazolite

~~~~~

Instead of doing homework like he was meaning to, Tim was working on a…let’s just call it a side project. He was doing work for his AP Computer Science Principles class in earsketch, and as he finished the last loop problem, an idea popped in his head. 

Programmed music.

To start he set the bpm to a relaxing 180, like any normal sleep deprived high school child would do and started importing samples. Then he implemented those samples in his code variables and began composing. He plugged his laptop into the speaker system Bruce installed as per Dick and Jason’s request--It was getting a bit ugly with the amount of amps and wires creating a not so safe maze in the room with their also not so cheap instruments that they insisted they pay from pocket--and set the volume to a comfortable rumble-the-room volume.

Let’s pick a fun key: A flat minor. Making sure all of the samples were pitched correctly, he typed up the drum line: right on the beat; get the blood pumping. After that he added a higher pitched synth and programmed in the basic instrumental melody. Huh, maybe he should save it for a phrase later. He moved his cursor to the line right below the drum line’s code and pressed enter a couple times. Mmmmmm, he looked at the ceiling for answers he knew it couldn’t give but it was always worth a shot. Bass line! Tim went from 0 to 10 at this point. How intricate would he need to make the bass line in order to evoke anxiety? He didn’t know but he did know that his bass line was definitely fire. Then he added a space-y synth for the verse--he’d implement that last--and made it more intense by using a few filters on the sample in the beginning and then suddenly took them away, leaving the piercing unfiltered sound of the synth for the last part of the verse and into the transitions. Tim added a few ornaments such as electric guitar at the end of phrases, siren glissandos, spinning sound effects and high pitched vocal “woo”s to add some flavor. Finally came the lyrics. Topic: anxiety with a dash of raving. With that in mind, Tim ran the instrumental then began at the first bass drop:

_ In this world full of lies _

_ You get hypnotized _

_ You get hypnotized _

_ In this world full of lies _

_ You get hypnotized _

_ By the gleam in the skies _

The unfiltered synth began and Tim used that to start the chorus.

_ No, no _

_ You know I don't know _

_ Whether in this world, I'm gonna fight for the truth _

_ Why, Why _

_ My eyes in the light _

_ But no one can hear my cry _

The percussion found its way among the bass and synth harmonies to support the build-up. He could feel it in the room from the walls, to the ground, through his body, in his soul.

_ Why, Why _

_ My eyes in the light _

_ So now let me talk to you _

_ I'm gonna sing about it _

_ I'm gonna fuss about it _

_ And you will hear about it _

The synth was like a whirlwind. Spinning him round and round, sucking him into the null. This out-of-body feeling was mesmerizing.

_ Party fucking house! Woo! _

His heart pounded in his chest to the beat. Was he hearing it? Was it just the sound through the speakers? Tim grew dizzy trying to make sense of it so instead he waited a few seconds for the chorus to start up again. 

_ No, no _

_ You know I don't know _

_ Whether in this world, I'm gonna fight for the truth _

_ Why, Why _

_ My eyes in the light _

_ But no one can hear my cry _

_ Why, Why _

_ My eyes in the light _

_ So now let me talk to you _

_ I'm gonna sing about it _

_ I'm gonna fuss about it _

_ And you will hear about it _

The instrumental developed a bit into something calmer. Piano replaced the harsh synth for a more gentle melodic progression. Tim began the bridge on the off beat, the unexpected entrance creating tension among the peace.

_ In this world full of lies _

_ You get hypnotized _

_ You get hypnotized _

_ In this world full of lies _

Tim added a glitch effect in a comment as he recorded the next lyric. The quick but gradual build up got his heart pumping again.

_ You get hypnoti-ti-ti-ti-ti-ti-ti-ti- _

_ No, no _

_ You know I don't know _

_ Whether in this world, I'm gonna fight for the truth _

_ Whine, Whine _

_ My eyes in the light _

_ But no one can hear my cry _

_ Why, Why _

_ My eyes in the light _

_ So now let me talk to you _

_ I'm gonna sing about it _

_ I'm gonna fuss about it _

_ And you will hear about it _

Last appearance of the chorus now. Again Tim added more complexity to the instrumental for the break in between, giving the synth a variation of the first melody, which persisted into the chorus. 

_ No, no _

_ You know I don't know _

_ Whether in this world, I'm gonna fight for the truth _

_ Whine, Whine _

_ My eyes in the light _

_ But no one can hear my cry _

_ Why, Why _

_ My eyes in the light _

_ So now let me talk to you _

_ I'm gonna sing about it _

_ I'm gonna fuss about it _

_ And you will hear about it _

As the instrumental finished up he did the last lyric without finishing the sentence for an abrupt ending to his anxiety themed masterpiece.

_ Uh, This is a fuckin- _

Unfortunately, Bruce walked into the room just as Tim did the last line. Bruce stared at Tim. Tim stared back at him, gaunt expression and laptop on his lap.

“Should I also invest in soundproofing here?” asked Bruce, a bit higher pitched than normal--well you could only tell if you were a bat...or Superman. He was in awe of the rumbling that shook the manor. 

“Yeah probably,” Tim answered, a bit noncommittal.

~~~~~

“Everything Black” by Unlike Pluto

~~~~~

He went in with the intention of playing a Kreisler piece. He unpacked his violin and tuned before he grabbed the sheet music. 

Liebesleid. 

Love’s Sorrow.

Drake and Todd were watching anime on Netflix the other day but that time it was centered around classical musicians. He saw one of the scenes as he went to retrieve Titus’ leash. The pianist looked as if he was drowning on stage as he played. Damian scoffed internally. As if he would ever let something like stage fright overtake him. However distorted, he deciphered the piece the boy failed miserably at playing and decided to learn it for himself. 

He sight-read the piece with ease but couldn’t feel the purpose behind it. What on Earth  _ was _ Love’s Sorrow? The juxtaposition between the two conflicted him so he put his violin away and took out the piano arrangement, setting it on the stand. Similar to the violin, he played the piece easily but meaninglessly. It was nearly mechanical. 

Damian let his hands fall to his sides just off the bench. 

Mechanical gray. Darkened night. Everything faded to black.

Everything Black?

As much as he hated it he needed a percussionist, so up to Drake’s room he marched. When Damian reached Tim’s room, he found Tim sitting at his desk staring a hole into what looked like WE documents.

“Drake,” he began but paused. Tim turned around and waited for Damian to continue. They stared at each other for a good 5 seconds before Tim responded.

“Wut?” Tim slurred. Damian fiddled with the hem of his shirt for another couple seconds before answering.

“I require your skill set in the music room.” Oh goodness why. Damian felt shaky. Was he trembling?

“Eh, sure why not. I could use the exercise.” Tim stood up and popped a few joints, then followed Damian to the music room. 

“So what are we doing?” asked Tim as he got situated. 

“Everything Black,” said Damian.

“Everything black?”

“Everything Black.” 

Tim thought about it for a minute, but then it clicked. “Really going for imagery today” he commented.

“Tt. Are you going to play or are you going to make bothersome quips all day?” Damian muttered in annoyance. He sat himself down at the piano, running through the chord progression in his head before he counted Tim in.

_ Shadows fall over my heart _

In a single line Damian poured his soul into the first chord. It was getting more and more difficult to connect with his father. Damian put out subtle hints every so often but it was so much work with no reward. Was it still worth it?

_ I black out the moon _

_ I wait for you to come around _

He gave his father space in hopes Bruce would initiate something with Damian once he was ready but...

_ You got me dancing in the dark ( _ Tim:  _ dancing in the dark) _

Bruce perplexed him to no end. Closed off to everyone. Damian tried his best to follow along. Patrols, sparring, at the dinner table, but Bruce was an enigma. 

_ I've closed my eyes _

_ But I won't sleep tonight _

Tim picked up the beat for the pre-chorus. Damian started to focus more on notes as the instrumental became more complex

_ Baby, you should come with me _

_ I'll take you to the dark side _

He knew Talia was only using him in some small part of his brain. 

_ Me and you, you and me _

_ Do bad things in the night time _

Trying to replace him with a clone? Killing him?

_ Baby, you should come with me _

They worked so well together. Killing had become an art. Maybe if things were different...

_ And we can kill the lights _

_ Hit the lights, let it blackout, blackout _

_ Hit the lights, let it blackout, blackout (woo!) _

The Bat’s signature color, black. Fear encompassing, blinding and consuming.

Tim paused as Damian began the chord progression. Minor chord to minor chord, a major chord sprinkled in, meeting soft dissonance then back to minor. 

_ Black bird, black moon, black sky, black light _

_ Black, everything black _

_ Black heart, black keys, black diamonds _

_ Blackout, black, everything black _

_ Black, everything, everything _

Tim started up again, keeping his supporting role.

_ All black, everything, everything _

_ All black, everything, everything _

_ All black, everything, everything black _

The interlude was something of a mini-vent init of itself. He played the right hand as octaves and the left as chords, imitating the sample used in the original. Tim backed off but kept a steady rhythm every other beat.

_ In a nocturnal state of mind _

_ Children of the night _

_ But it's the only way  _ _ of life _

Being Robin. Partnering with the Bat.

_ This black hole's pulling me inside _

_ Of this black heart, this black soul _

_ Underneath this black, black sky _

Killing was an addiction. It didn’t matter if it was for a mission or not. The feeling he used to get was euphoric before he met his father. Bruce took the joy out of it, scolded him like a puppy who wet the carpet. Damian didn’t necessarily change his ideals but he conformed to Bruce’s just to get something out of him. Some incessant part of him yearned for that familial bond, that acceptance. Again, Damian geared up for the chorus.

_ Baby, you should come with me _

_ I'll take you to the dark side _

_ Me and you, you and me _

_ Do bad things in the night time _

_ Baby, you should come with me _

_ And we can kill the lights _

_ Hit the lights, let it blackout, blackout _

_ Hit the lights, let it blackout, blackout (woo!) _

_ Black bird, black moon, black sky, black light _

_ Black, everything black _

_ Black heart, black keys, black diamonds _

_ Blackout, black, everything black _

_ Black, everything, everything _

_ All black, everything, everything _

_ All black, everything, everything _

_ All black, everything, everything black _

The instrumental progressed until it suddenly levelled. Damian began again softly, almost faraway as if in a trance.

_ Baby, you should come with me _

_ Me and you, you and me _

_ Baby, you should come with me _

_ And we can kill the lights _

_ Hit the lights, let it blackout, blackout _

_ Hit the lights, let it blackout, blackout (woo!) _

Tim picked up the rhythm as Damian returned for the final time to the chorus.

_ Black bird, black moon, black sky, black light _

_ Black, everything black _

_ Black heart, black keys, black diamonds _

_ Blackout, black, everything black _

_ Black, everything, everything _

_ All black, everything, everything _

_ All black, everything, everything _

_ All black, everything, everything black _

Damian slammed his hands on the last chord much harder than he meant to. Not expecting the sudden accented beat, Tim jumped back from his stool, knocking over the stool and landing hard on his back.

“Could you warn me next time,” Tim wheezed, limbs sprawled on the floor. Damian just grunted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tim is me when writing for school.


	5. The Music Room Pt. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last vent in the music room + the one time they all sang together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The music video for the last one is all the context you'll need for that. It's a little profane but go check it out cuz it definitely is much better than my watered down version here lol
> 
> Am I posting this at 1:20 in the morning when I have to get up at 7? Possibly....

~~~~~

“Stolen Dance” by Milky Chance

~~~~~

Bruce knew he wasn’t a great parent. It’s not like they made a manual on how to parent for a man with the emotional capacity of a brick wall. Walking aimlessly through the halls of the manor, he found himself at the piano. He told himself he did it for her. Once he could play Chopin and Rachmaninoff he knew it was time to start searching for himself--for the Bat--so he gave it up. However, it was tempting. He spent so much just to make this room a safe haven for his kids. He swept the keys with his fingers, twitching at the thought of playing again. What of it if he gave into the impulse? 

He knew the song well. The chord progression, the instrumentation. He supposed he'd have to settle for an arrangement. Using the left hand for pitched percussion, he began the chorded off-beats.

_ I want you by my side _

_ So that I never feel alone again _

Being Batman was addictive. Even more so the feeling he got.

_ They've always been so kind _

_ But now they've brought you away from here _

He was once their hero, but who was he now?

_ I hope they didn't get your mind _

_ Your heart is too strong anyway _

_ We need to fetch back the time _

_ They have stolen from us _

He repeated the same chord a few times before jumping in stronger for the chorus.

_ And I want you _

_ We can bring it on the floor _

_ You've never danced like this before _

_ We don't talk about it _

Batman was almost a dirty little secret. A guilty pleasure that he relished in. It’s where he is most comfortable.

_ Dancin' on do the boogie all night long _

_ Stoned in paradise, shouldn't talk about it _

Oh yeah, he was definitely addicted. He repeated the chorus again as if to solidify his point.

_ And I want you _

_ We can bring it on the floor _

_ You've never danced like this before _

_ We don't talk about it _

_ Dancin' on do the boogie all night long _

_ Stoned in paradise, shouldn't talk about it _

_ Shouldn't talk about it _

It was night and day when he began the next verse after the instrumental gap. He whispered his secrets but out leaked his emotions.

_ Coldest winter for me _

_ No sun is shining anymore _

_ The only thing I feel is pain _

_ Caused by absence of you _

When he’s out playing ‘Brucie’ or whatever the hell else they want from him he hates it. He isn’t just Batman though. He’s just a dysfunctional single father who tries his best for all the wrong things.

_ Suspense is controlling my mind _

_ I cannot find the way out of here _

Nevertheless it was lonely without the Bat. Bruce’s world greyed out without him.

_ I want you by my side _

_ So that I never feel alone again _

The next lines repeated the chorus. Bruce raised the dynamics to a comfortable forte but never too outspoken. He kept it articulate and precise. Perfection without a silver of unnecessary emotion.

_ And I want you _

_ We can bring it on the floor _

_ You've never danced like this before _

_ We don't talk about it _

_ Dancin' on do the boogie all night long _

_ Stoned in paradise, shouldn't talk about it _

Two more. He faltered

_ And I want you _

_ We can bring it on the floor _

_ You've never danced like this before _

_ We don't talk about it _

_ Dancin' on do the boogie all night long _

_ Stoned in paradise, shouldn't talk about it _

_ Shouldn't talk about it _

One more. He cracked. Ornaments flew across the keys. A scale here, arpeggio there. Hairpin phrasing and developed rhythmic structures. Nearly impossible chords like in pieces by Rachmanninoff. He never raised the tempo but there were different ways to vent. He poured everything he learned into these last maybe ten measures. Here he was!

_ And I want you _

_ We can bring it on the floor _

_ You've never danced like this before _

_ We don't talk about it _

_ Dancin' on do the boogie all night long _

_ Stoned in paradise, shouldn't talk about it _

_ Shouldn't talk about it _

“It’s nice to see you haven’t forgotten. What with your daily and nightly activities,” Alfred set a tray of tea and biscuits down on a nearby tray table. Bruce felt a stabbing sensation in his palms trailing up through his fingers when he registered what Alfred said. Well, he supposed he deserved that.

~~~~~

“Hole in the Roof” by AronChupa and Little Sis Nora

~~~~~

After what must have been the thousandth Arkham breakout, the GCPD instilled a policy which basically stated the batfam had to clean up after themselves. Like dude, the heck are they doing that required a whole block downtown to be ravaged. Seriously!

There they were, sifting through rubble and making sure the surrounding buildings were at least structurally sound.

It wasn’t intentional. It all began when Nightwing started whistling the catchy tune as he loaded up some rubble in one of the trucks. Red Hood followed along, humming the bassline with him as he worked. Red Robin started speaking the introductory french then shockingly, Batman began singing.

_ There’s a hole in the roof _

_ And rain’s coming through _

I mean, it was pretty gloomy in Gotham to begin with.

Everyone announced the next line.

_ There’s a hole in the roof _

Bats smirked and continued, everyone announcing after each pair of lines.

_ There’s a hole in the roof _

_ Even thunder’s coming through _

Lightning struck one of the cops from the scene through the hole in the roof. That must have been coincidental...

_ There’s a hole in the roof _

_ There’s a hole in the roof _

_ Now neighbor’s coming through _

A random dude from a rope ladder started climbing down.

_ There’s a hole in the roof _

_ There’s a hole in the roof _

_ And you got shit to do… _

A civilian who was still on the can fell through the roof, toilet dropping down with him. He was completely nude, only having a newspaper he was reading to give him some modesty. Everyone stopped and stared at him.

“Keep playing,” the man moved his finger in a vague circular motion.

They all shrugged and got back to it.

Hood and Nightwing started up the acapella again, everyone shouting the lines of the chorus 

_ There’s a hole in the roof _

_ There’s a hole in the roof _

_ There’s a hole in the roof _

_ There’s a hole in the roof _

Robin took the initiative this time. He was an equal to his father so it was his rite.

_ There’s a hole in the roof _

_ What are we gonna do? _

_ There’s a hole in the roof _

_ Oh there’s a hole in the roof _

_ Even goat’s coming through _

As a goat actually came through Robin’s eyes lit up. However, Batman glared at him then Robin huffed and tutted, averting his eyes.

_ There’s a hole in the roof _

_ I said I got a hole in the roof _

_ Oh God please come through _

What the hell kinda crack did Alfie put in the cookies? An angelic figure who could only be described as Jesus floated down. The cops reacted to him too.

“Oh my god!” said one of the cops as they each tapped a cross on themselves.

So it wasn’t just them??

_ There’s a hole in the roof _

_ There’s a hole in the roof _

_ And soldier’s on the loose _

There was a crash from the side of the building. A wall tore down revealing a german soldier.

“Was ist los mit diesem schieß Wienerschnitzel/ **What the fuck is wrong with this wienerschnitzel** ?” he shouted then proceeded to fire his machine gun into the roof, making a piano fall through the roof on top of his legs. He grunted with effort as he pulled his body away from his crushed, severed legs.

“Scheiß! Wienerschnitzel!” he panted between his words. “Ich liebe Wienerschnitzel,” he nearly sobbed in a normal volume.

“So y’all just gonna ignore this or?” Signal said after the dust settled. RR just shrugged and everyone joined back into song.

_ There’s a hole in the roof _

_ There’s a hole in the roof _

Hood snatched a megaphone from one of the officers and shouted the line right into B’s ear. Bats didn’t so much as flinch. Well fuck him and his selective noise cancelling cowl features. 

_ There’s a hole in the roof _

_ There’s a hole in the roof _

_ There’s a hole in the roof _

_ There’s a hole in the roof _

_ There’s a hole in the roof _

“Is that Mozart coming through?” Jesus’ voice echoed slightly when he spoke. He was pointing to the piano where literal Mozart came through. He started playing something that sounded like Toccata and Fugue by Bach but hey, who were they to judge a musical genius?

“Let’s get this party started motherfuckers!” Mozart announced as the metaphorical beat dropped. It looked like Mozart at this point was just waving his arms about as club lights came on, disco ball and all. Ah yes, a rave in the rubble (or grave for some but that’s a different song and much more morbid in this context, hah...)

Nightwing decided it was his time to shine after the rave bit finished up. That being said, he was the only one who could go that high so it was only natural. Not that anyone was expecting the ‘tone deaf’ one to nail that. Damn.

_ Oh I feel it in my skin now _

_ The storm is slowly closing in _

_ Quick, you gotta give me shelter _

_ Can’t you see I’m ill? _

Bats butted in again, deep baritone contrasting heavily with ‘wing’s falsetto.

_ There’s a hole in the roof _

_ And you got shit to do _

Everyone alternated the lines, each of them getting their own moment.

_ There’s a hole in the roof _

_ There’s a hole in the roof _

_ There’s a hole in the roof _

_ There’s a hole in the roof _

_ There’s a hole in the roof _

_ There’s a hole in the roof _

_ And you got shit to do _

“Damn straight you do. Now get back to work!” one of the detectives finally decided he had had enough and shouted at the bats in a thick Brooklyn accent. What would it take to get some productivity around here...


	6. Identity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kinda realized I left Jason’s rant aftermath up to interpretation, so I figured I’d share what I had going on in my mind as to what he was feeling. This also follows the events of the better ending to AaSoB (ch 2) so read that for context but its not crucial for understanding.
> 
> There's a panic attack in italics so trigger warning. It's only like 2 lines though so it's not a major plot point.

Jab, hook, jab, jab, savate.

Choking pain stabbed at his throat and prickled at the back of his eyes. 

Hook, elbow, uppercut, jab, hook.

Everyone else was upstairs after the whole ordeal from that morning, but Jason stayed in the cave, abusing the poor punching bag. It wasn’t even the same one as when he went down there. He broke that one before the rest of the bats all came down with Clark. His breathing was labored from exhaustion despite his Lazarus-pit-enhanced physique.

Jab, elbow, knee, hook, hook, hoo--

Jason’s hand got caught in the bag. As he removed it sand poured out and covered the mat below the bag. Damn it, that was the second bag today. Jason put his hands on his head and began to pace slowly around the perimeter of the mat to settle his heartbeat a bit. Once he could breathe a little better, he got the broom from a nearby closet Alfred installed for these situations and began to sweep up. After all, he wouldn’t make Alfie clean up after his venting; that may as well be him asking for it… 

Something the dead Waynes said had gotten to him, as confused as Jason was to admit. He supposed he had similar feelings when he was in the process of accepting that he was bi. He never seemed to amount to others expectations of him. What more of his identity was there to figure out? What the Waynes said definitely hurt Bruce but why did he get prickly inside as well? He was perfectly content with his masculinity. He was fine with his pronouns and his outward representation of himself for the most part but some things felt a bit--weird. He always referred to himself as a man, but something about that left a sour taste in his mouth. As much as he’s embarrassed to admit, he may have liked the androgyny of the first robin suit.

He dumped the dustpan into a trash bin and put the broom back into the closet. Then he headed for the showers and changed into more comfortable clothes. Jason was about to sneak out of the manor when Alfred turned the corner with some cookies and chai tea. God bless that man. 

“Some refreshments Master Jason?” asked Alfred as he set the tray down on the conference table.

“Thanks Alfie, I was just about to leave-” Alfred’s eyes narrowed “I mean what a wonderful batch of cookies you’ve gone through all the hard work of making! I’ll definitely be staying the night,” Jason quickly revised his statement in a pitched tone. Alfred watched Jason sit by the tray and prepared to take off.

_ Can’t see, can’t breath, heaviness in his chest, weight in his skull, squeezing in his throat, moving fingers back and forth the bumps on the tray, dizzy _ ... Where?

His head was on the table, one arm dangled from his shoulder while the other rested in the tray. Why did his face hurt? *

“--on! Master Jason are you alright?” Alfred’s hand was on his shoulder and he leaned to face Jason. 

“Wut?” Jason slurred. His eyes still wouldn’t focus. Bringing himself to a more comfortable position, Jason rested the useless arm on the table and set his cheek on his fist so he stared at the table, the other hand still stimming. His leg began bouncing restlessly as he focused on being present. 

Alfred took the seat behind him without taking his hand away. A while passed before Jason spoke up.

“I think something’s wrong with me,” Jason whispered. He shook as his legs bounced more violently. 

~~~~~

The nausea persisted throughout the week. Muggers calling him “boy.” Hookers calling him a “big burly man.”

“Fight me like a man Hood!” shouted an overconfident Bane. 

“AAAAGGGGGHHHH,” Jason cried out as he delivered a debilitating vagus hit to Bane’s neck. Bane groaned and fell to the ground, out cold. A green haze invaded his vision. 

“Hood, report,” Bruce droned. 

“Bane’s down,” Jason rasped. He stepped back until his back hit a wall and slid down, chucked his helmet to the side and put his head between his knees. After what felt like hours Dick was at the scene. 

“Hood?” called out Dick, scanning around until he spotted Jason curled up against a warehouse. Dick saw Bane and unplugged his venom before tying him up and dialing the GCPD. 

“Little Wing? Hey, what’s wrong?” Dick tried to get some sort of reaction. 

“Can I hug you?” he asked hesitantly. Vigilante comforting 101: never unexpectedly touch a dissociating vigilante unless you have a death wish. Jason nodded slightly and Dick pulled him into a soft hug. 

~~~~~

This was getting out of hand. He usually only felt mild discomfort when he was addressed as being a man but recently it’s been difficult to not flinch at the remark. Scrolling through some random forums he found something a bit interesting. 

“I’m perfectly fine with being referred to with feminine pronouns but something about being a woman feels a little’ icky,” said one person. Many people corroborated with similar sentiments.

“So actually there is a term for this: demigender. While I am no professional, essentially what it means is a person feels a strong affiliation with a particular gender but they also feel a partial connection to another,” some other guy clarified. Well shit, finally some answers. 

~~~~~

“I’m a demiboy,” Jason blurted out during family dinner night. Everyone paused from the sudden information. Bruce started choking in the mashed potatoes and Alfred prepped to do the Heimlich. Tim and Damian both looked him in the eye, nodded and went back to eating. Cass smiled at him and congratulated him. Dick’s face lit up.

“This calls for a mandatory ice cream sundae party!” said Dick as Bruce finally stopped choking. Bruce was flushed from the lack of air but still managed to pant out a “congrats kid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ngl but I started to have a panic attack as I was writing this, which so happened to be in a great spot of my writing so I incorporated that in there. I kinda did a self insert with the whole gender thing and got a little dysphoric (which triggered me in the first place) but I’m also gonna blame the coffee and meds. I’m ok for the most part; I have some vent songs playing when I write in case so I can flex while singing my feelings away, heh... If you are interested in my singing check out my smule profile [here](https://www.smule.com/violinist1023)


	7. Blindness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kinda want to expand on this but this is all I have the willpower and time to write right now.
> 
> Warning for long term effects of vigilantism.

It was to be expected that something like this would happen. He  _ was _ shot in the head and had many head injuries on top of that. 

It started out at minor headaches and some difficulty reading after long periods of time so Dick went to the optometrist. The doctor prescribed some glasses and Dick thought that was the end of that. The glasses seemed to solve Dick’s problem for eight months until he started to have the same problem. When he went back to the optometrist the doctor was shocked to see him back so soon. Well, that’s not great, Dick thought. 

For the next couple years afterward Dick’s vision continued to deteriorate at an alarming rate. He’d frequently walk into Bruce’s vases in the halls or the corners of the furniture. When anyone asked him he’d just brush it off saying, “sorry I was just lost in thought for a minute there.” 

It wasn’t until he woke up and couldn’t distinguish his hand from the sheets that he began to freak out. His glasses, even with the ultrathin lens material were comically clunky. He used one hand to try and find them from the nightstand and when he finally did he quickly shoved them on his face. It was still impossible to see. Damn it. 

“Hey Siri, call Bruce,” Dick said in the direction of what he hoped his phone was charging.

“Calling Bruce Wayne,” the voice assistant replied. He sighed. Thank god it didn’t mishear or anything like that… Now that his phone was dialing, Dick found it and put it by his ear. Pick up pick up pick up-

“Dick?” Bruce rasped. Yup definitely one of those days. 

“I can’t see”


End file.
